state of grace (cutler beckett)
by ofathena
Summary: Elizabeth Swann's younger sister Florence presents a new problem to Cutler Beckett and his lack of mercy for the realm, she's a distraction that he's all too happy to get carried away with.
1. Chapter 1

The voices of the wind were surging louder and louder and Lord Cutler Beckett, encased in the warmth of his carriage, was relieved to not yet be out in the weather. He could hear the rain picking up again, lashing at the windows and he knew soon that the ground would become soft and his horses would begin to struggle. Pleasantly, they were drawing close to his destination, so it would not worry him much longer. Mercer rapped lightly on the front window and Beckett glanced out of the window, eyes roaming the sleet soaked setting before with a heaved sigh, he stood, brushing himself down briskly before he stepped from the carriage and onto the moist ground.

It was a wedding, he realised that was the event he was interrupting, though Beckett cared little for the occasion, only for the charges and for the one he had come to collect. The bride, the first of his charges, was a woman with an almost familiar face, beautiful and willful and glaring at him through glossy eyes. She pushed through the crowd easily, eyes narrowing as they took him in but he made no remark as Mercer aided him in the removal of his overcoat, the dark fabric growing heavy with the ongoing downpour. A scuffle and shout from the back of the crowd drew all eyes to a dozen of his men and Beckett's lip lifted as he noticed that manacled man caught amongst them, at the sight of whom the bride let out a low snarl and went to plunge toward the man, only to be held back by a fairer woman though the bride looked ready to tear free at any moment.

Beckett found his eyes could barely stray from the woman gripping the bride's hand in her own, knuckles white as she struggled to contain who Beckett now knew as Elizabeth Swann. The other woman, however, she was unknown to him and she was the most beguiling creature he had had the pleasure of settling his gaze on. A picture of elegance and innocence, she had soft features and gentle eyes, eyes that remained lowered as she stood beside Miss Swann and Beckett found himself rather more than intrigued.

"Will!" The name bursts from Miss Swann's lips and the young woman's eyes flash up, sadness welling within them and Beckett advances then, catching everyone's attention but the bride's, who don't move from her groom's until Beckett is amidst the crowd. There's more commotion and Beckett's eyebrow raised at the sight of a red-faced Weatherby Swann trying to force his way through the crowd, shouting commands that fall on deaf ears as Mercer moves to intercept.

"Governor Swann, it has been quite a few years," Beckett met the governor's eyes briefly, enough for the confusion to begin to dissipate from the man's ruddy features and the governor recognises him then, eyes narrowing much like his daughter's had.

"Cutler Beckett?" Ah, he has indeed been recognised but clearly, word from England was slower to reach Port Royal than he believed as Mercer utters the correction of title to the startled governor. The young woman's eyes roamed his face when she believed him unawares, he felt her gaze like soft dapples across his face and it was as though she was truly touching him rather than simply studying him from afar.

"Lord or not, on whose and what authority are you arresting this man?" The governor exchanges a glance with his daughter, who has since moved to stand at William Turner's side, the young woman forgotten and remaining within the crowds as though she's ready to disappear into them.

"I think you'll find that indeed, I do," Beckett kept his voice relatively pleasant, although the idea that his authority was being questioned made his teeth clench briefly. Mercer handed over one of the documents, the governor's hands shaking remarkably so as he glanced over the warrant, before his eyes flashed up, burning into Beckett's.

"This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann," There was an undeniable quiver in the governor's tone and Beckett found that he was indeed enjoying this little scene.

"Oh, is it? An annoying mistake, easily rectified. Arrest her as well," Beckett noted the surge of movement to his left, the young woman moved through the crowd towards Miss Swann with surprising speed but with a tilt of Beckett's head, Mercer had intercepted her and the young woman was practically trapped between several of Beckett's men, Mercer and Beckett himself.

"What are the charges?" Miss Swann snarled out as Mercer passed over the remaining documents to the now white-faced governor, who upon receiving the documents went to read from them.

"The charge is "conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire and condemned to death, for which the-" The governor went almost paler, his hands shaking tremendously and Beckett spoke up, knowing Governor Swann would not be able to finish.

"For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death. Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow," There was a chorus of objections at Beckett's words and he stifled an eye roll but they'd given him his answer. Now all that remained was imprisoning them, which he momentarily signaled for his guards to do before his gaze settled back on the woman still beside Mercer, who Governor Swann was speaking to quietly, his words audibly soothing. Beckett's eyes narrowed briefly in on the young woman before with something close to a jolt of shock, he realised that she must be the governor's other daughter.

He had met Florence Swann nearly a decade ago in London with her father before they had made the crossing, although this was his first time encountering Elizabeth, Beckett remembered how charming young Florence had been and how she'd offered sweet sympathy for his losses, though she wasn't entirely sure of what exactly he had indeed lost. Now, she would be twenty and apparently, still unmarried and more exquisite than any other woman he'd encountered. He could feel her eyes on him, peering up through dark lashes as her father appeared to coax her back. She was trembling slightly and although Beckett did not doubt it was because of the cold, there was something close to fury glittering in her expression and her father's words of calm were barely working.

"Weatherby. Unfortunate circumstances but I'm glad you are faring well," The governor worked to compose himself, cheeks flushing briefly and he pursed his lips together before he seemed to remember his etiquette and dipped his head slightly.

"Yes, you seem to have had better luck since last I saw you. Your lordship and directorship must have you in a rather tricky position, here arresting my daughter," Beckett reminded himself of his composure, smiling thinly before his eyes turned to Florence, who was shivering rather openly. Beckett, with a glance towards Mercer and a click of his tongue, shed his coat and offered it to Florence, whose cheeks flushed just enough that he noticed before she half glanced at her father, as if unsure. Weatherby looked briefly torn before he nodded minutely.

"Thank you, my lord," Florence spoke softly, her eyes dropping briefly and Beckett allowed himself to smile with a genuine warmth at her. She returned the smile with a soft one of her own and he noticed the way the colouring on her cheeks brightened. The governor looked all set to rush her off but Beckett decidedly had not spent enough time with Florence nor with Weatherby, who he indeed needed to have words with.

"Come, I'll escort you back to the mansion. We have much to discuss and I will allow your daughter to be privy to it, as it will doubtless affect her," The two exchanged passing looks but did as he asked, Mercer advancing ahead to the carriage. The rain had begun to slow and Beckett slipped back into his outer coat before holding out a hand to Florence, who took it without even a glance in her father's direction, making Beckett smile faintly as they hurried to the safety of the carriage.

Helping Florence into the carriage, Beckett turned to aid Weatherby a moment later to find the older man studying him but he was wordless as he allowed himself to be helped into the carriage. Mercer caught Beckett's gaze as he stepped up to follow and with a nod, it seemed Mercer knew exactly where this conversation was going to be headed, a cruel smile still resting upon his lips as he closed the carriage door behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation between Beckett and her father was one that had filled Florence with anxiety. The idea that her sister and Will were to be hung, that because of the pirate she'd met briefly in the summer, they'd both be killed and James Norrington too it sounded, made her heart twist with a mixture of worry and hopelessness. She loved the three of them dearly, Norrington she missed terribly and the idea that Cutler Beckett, who she remembered had been kind to her when she had been younger, was the one coming to execute them made her stomach hurt.

The Beckett she remembered had been just as handsome, more so now that she was older and could appreciate it, with elegant features, perfect poise and an almost regal air to him. He was smaller in stature than most of the men she knew, but his presence stood far greater and seated in a carriage with him facing her and her father, she felt the presence innately and although Florence was not one to be cowed easily, she was well aware of the intimidation tactics being currently exhibited. Beckett, feigning an almost casual air, directed what felt like a tirade of information at her father, all the while remaining rather impassive to the information he was delivering. Florence struggled to keep up with where he appeared to be going with this speech but her father seemed to well understand, his shoulder where it was pressed against her own was rigid with tension. Beckett's talk of pirates and the realm made sense enough to Florence but why it happened to be directed towards her father made less sense, her father had mayhaps allowed Jack Sparrow a tentative almost freedom but he certainly hadn't abetted piracy, as it almost seemed Beckett was suggesting.

When the topic of conversation turned swiftly to her, Florence sat up a little straighter, folding her hands into her lap carefully as she raised her eyes slightly. Beckett was already watching her, his grey eyes thoughtful as he directed a question more so to Florence herself than to her father.

"Florence I presume is not far off marriage either. I expect you would have found yourself rather flooded with suitors seeking her hand?" Her father's knuckles whitened briefly and Florence began to realise what Beckett might be getting at. Her father had mentioned he thought Beckett to be the ideal suitor for Florence to her in passing years ago, back when he thought more highly of Beckett.

"Yes, there are no shortage. Florence is like her sister, willful and aware of herself but after what happened a few months ago-" Her father broke off, Florence's jaw had clenched slightly and Beckett seemed well aware of the tick there. He steepled his hands, making Florence very aware of his attention as he spoke directly to her it seemed.

"All in due time, I suppose. You may tell me about the occurrences if you wish, but I won't press you for them, dear Florence," She nodded at his words, her stomach awash with acid and for a while, Florence remained within her own mind, her thoughts spinning a hurricane as she recalled the events her father had almost broached. She was startled from those thoughts by a warm hand finding her own, her father was talking distantly but Beckett's eyes were kind and something like concern was filling his expression. Florence was embarrassed, she hadn't entirely been aware she'd not been present and flushed accordingly, her cheeks burning but Beckett's gaze did not waver from the slightly worried look he was fixing her with. She shook her head faintly in response to the unasked question and although Beckett seemed less than satisfied, he did not bring any more attention to Florence.

Before Florence bathed that night, her father asked her to come to his study to speak with him and although apprehensive at first, she reasoned her father would never make a decision without first broaching it with her. She did not doubt that the reason for this was Cutler Beckett and his less than honied words but Florence was undaunted. She didn't fear Beckett, though she found herself rather apprehensive. Beckett, although she found him intriguing, worried her, in more ways than one. The risk he posed to her sister, her lover and their friend, well pirate but friends nonetheless made her overly cautious.

Her father's office was dimly lit, the candles burning low and he had his wig off, curling hair balding at the top of his skull and when he raised his eyes to her, his smile was tired. The servant milling around, Rogers who smiled briefly at Florence when she entered, took his leave rather swiftly, shutting the door tightly behind him as he vanished into the hallway. Florence sat then, the familiar armchair sinking beneath her weight. Her father placed his pen down then, his eyes meeting herself a moment later and he smiled again, the smile made Weatherby Swann's face cracked into a million fine lines, all of which were familiar to Florence.

"My dear, I'm sorry to summon you at such late an hour. My mind is ill at ease and I cannot stop thinking of Elizabeth and Will and James and of course, Cutler Beckett. When I first met him, I'll tell you I didn't realise at the time what a threat he might become. You don't remember it probably, but he'd come under some misfortune before you met him, none that you were aware of but you were sweet and sympathetic and he seemed to appreciate that. I didn't want to see it then but now, I cannot help but realise how easily you fell into his favour," Florence wasn't quite sure where this was going but she remained silent as her father spoke, her mind back in England briefly. She remembered very little of the conversation, only that he'd smiled at her indulgently and she'd grown quite warm but nothing else stood out as something her father might find issue with. There had been the interaction in the carriage, which she was not entirely sure he'd caught.

"The way he looked at you today, even when you were unaware and then in the carriage when he thought I wasn't watching. You leave tonight, I'll allow you to bath and to prepare but you need to leave. Beckett has fastened his attention onto you and though, in other circumstances, I would be more than pleased, currently, you are not safe and neither is your sister. I cannot have Beckett posing a threat to both of you at once, I can't lose you like I nearly did," Florence flinched at his words, just slightly enough that her father noticed and his face crumbled, sadness leaking into his eyes.

"I understand, father. Beckett's ill intentions didn't seem to have me in the equation but I trust your judgement. I'll get my maid to prepare my suitcase, can I ask where you're sending me?" Weatherby nodded, relief dousing his features as he reached to clasp Florence's cool fingers.

"Good, I'm glad you understand my dear. I'm sorry it has to be so sudden, but you can return as soon as things calm down here, as soon as Elizabeth is free. I'm sending you back to England, your aunt lives alone after that your uncle pass and she will take care of you. I just want you safe Florence, after what happened, although I do not doubt that Beckett has your best interests at heart, he poses too much of a threat. At any other time, I would have been thrilled but my dear one, I cannot lose you," Florence's face twisted but she did not protest as her father embraced her tightly before he realised her, brushing pale locks off of her forehead.

"Off you go now, your carriage is due to depart at half eleven. I'll see you off," He ruffled her hair before she hurried from the room. Closing the door behind her, Florence let out a heavy, shaking breath before she turned, slipping back down the hallway she had come from and retreating back to her quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

Cutler Beckett couldn't say he was surprised to hear Weatherby Swann had plans to smuggle Florence from Port Royal back to England. Clearly his request to court Florence was unwelcome to Weatherby but from what Mercer had gathered, he hadn't informed Florence of Beckett's intentions so Beckett had no real gauge on how the youngest Swann would have had reacted to his proposal of sorts. He was almost eager to witness her reaction firsthand, he had already figured that her facial expressions were more than telling and despite her being considerably less bold than her sister, one look in her eyes and one knew exactly what was on her mind.

And then there was the oddness of what Weatherby had mentioned happening to her a few months prior, the way she'd become rigid and pale had not gone unnoticed by Beckett, the slight tremor in her fingers when his hand had found hers and the way her cheeks had darkened almost instantly upon contact. Beckett wanted to know what exactly had become of Florence that she might react like that, although he could well guess what may have happened given the timeframe. A few months ago, pirates hailing from the Black Pearl had descended on Port Royal, taking one of the governor's daughters, who'd ended up assisting yet another pirate and his newly minted accomplice in Will Turner. Not much had reached Beckett regarding the daughter he was interested in and clearly, something had slipped very much under his radar in terms of what had happened to Florence that night.

Beckett was feeling rather patient this particular evening and decided he would indeed wait up for Mercer to bring him either Florence or Governor Swann, whoever managed to end up in that carriage and caught unawares by Mercer's ambush at the docks. He was sitting fireside, the cool winds had blown off the rain and most of the unnatural warmth that the Caribbean was so well known for and he had a scribe writing again, a contract for Governor Swann and a certificate of marriage for when he wed Florence. His overconfidence surrounding Florence centred on the way she'd looked at him, not with thinly veiled disgust or fear entirely, but with almost curiosity and that curiosity, he wondered if it might make way for desire.

Beckett was rather unsure of the sudden affections he found himself harbouring for the younger Swann, but a brief trip down memory lane reminded him that they were almost nothing new. Even in her youth, he'd thought Florence to be both wise beyond her years and more beautiful than many a lady, he recalled her kindness back in England when she was young and naive. Memories of his distress over Jack Sparrow and the possibility of him losing a lordship surged, almost unwarranted but Beckett allowed himself to bathe in that furious hatred for a moment. The idea that he would see Jack again made him burn, the dastardly pirate had taken so much from him and now that Beckett had so much power, he could barely contain himself when it came to exacting revenge on Sparrow.

Mercer had devised that Florence would be a tool in that grand scheme, whether she was aware of it or not she skewed Elizabeth's alliance enough and Beckett knew Elizabeth would have a hard time escaping Port Royal with her sister in his clutches, even if Florence wasn't as opposed to it. Florence was insurance, that no matter what happened and if it came to a battle upon the water, with Florence in his cabin, Elizabeth would not allow her sister to perish and would possibly ensure the safety of his ships enough so that her sister would not be harmed. Florence was both a bargaining chip and insurance together, whether she was aware of it or not and Beckett knew that he'd need to keep his more secret plans quiet from her in case she made any grand decisions surrounding what exactly he was keeping her around for.

Beckett, twirling his seal briefly before crushing it into the wax, wanted Florence for more than just leverage but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Mercer. He wasn't quite lonely, but there was an emptiness that needed filling and from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd known exactly whom he required to fill that hole. His bed also had become rather large at night now, even just being on land it felt overly large and he wouldn't mind some company of the Florence fashion, he'd never stoop so low as to find himself entangled with anyone lesser.

The maid he'd sent to prepare her quarters for the time being in Port Royal scurried back to inform him everything was ready and Beckett eyed the timid girl briefly before he crooked a finger at her.

"I want you to get Lady Swann to trust you and then when she does, you tell me and I'll communicate with you what you need to find out from her," The maid nodded quickly, almost rabbitlike and Beckett contained an eye-roll.

The sound of a carriage caught both of their attention, Beckett straightening and eyes narrowing just slightly whilst the maid took immediate leave as Beckett stood, pacing to the staircase and descending quickly to go to the front door. Mercer awaited him on the other side and in his clutches, a tired-looking Florence with a red mark scoring her cheek and tears glittering in her eyes despite none of them having been shed yet.

"Ah, Mercer. I'm glad you were successful, I trust you are not to blame for the mark accosting dear Florence's fair features?" Mercer shook his head and went to speak but Beckett's eyes were on the minute nod from Florence and his jaw ticked. He'd asked Mercer specifically to keep his hands off of her and now it seemed he'd directly disobeyed Beckett's wishes.

"Lovely girl, I'm sure your father mentioned my marriage proposal and when I heard the news that you were to be sent back to England, I was quite puzzled as your father expressed great delight at my proposal," Florence's eyes glittered briefly in understand, her jaw briefly clenching and unclenching as she processed his words but otherwise her features remained quiet and nothing jumped from her expression to clue Beckett in to her thoughts.

"I can only assume he hadn't told you," Beckett kept his voice soft, nodding at Mercer, who she was possibly uncomfortable with, to leave. He had to remind himself that women were soft and to be sweet with them would get one a long way. He held out an arm to her, helping her slip from the coat strewn across her shoulders before coaxing her chin up with tender fingers under her jaw, he inspected the mark scored across her delicate cheekbone, before pressing a soft kiss just below the mark, noting the way she nearly trembled within his arms. Oh, this was going to be easy.


End file.
